The Horror of Running Into Someone You Know
Never get out of the boat. Absolutely goddamn right.
I just wanted to get some Bounty.
Bounty was on sale (6 double rolls), so I decided to run to the store at lunch.
If you know anything about Bounty, it’s roughly the price of a donor organ on the black market. And don’t talk to me about off-brands like Brawny or (shudder) Fiesta. They’re nothing but glorified rolls of toilet paper. Go Bounty or go home.
The plan was that I’d dart inside, grab the goods, and dart back out. Like a bank robber, but with a package of paper towels the size of a life raft.
(Yes, I know I’m destroying the environment. But at this point, I feel like the environment has bigger concerns than my profligate use of paper products.)
I can usually make kamikaze runs like this without running into anybody I know, because that’s my number one goal at any given moment— not seeing anyone I know and being forced to talk to them.
It’s bad enough when you know you’re going to have to socialize, but it’s a thousand times worse when it’s sprung on you like a pop quiz.
The awkwardness. The forced smile. The “Heeeeey!” like a bad Fonzie impersonation.
Because you know where your friends are. You’re not running into your friends without warning. You’ve already asked your friends, “Hey, do you need anything at the store?”
No, these people are not your friends.
What to talk about? Which common acquaintance or relative to ask after? What if that person has died?
It’s a minefield when you haven’t spoken to somebody in a while. I make it easy for people — they always ask the same question:
“Do you still have your dog?”
It doesn’t matter which dog, the answer is always going to be, “Yes.” That opens the door to safe, neutral chitchat about dogs until I’m released from my torment after a socially-acceptable few minutes of small talk.
Yesterday I saw someone walk past as I bounced on my toes in the checkout line, trying in vain to keep a social distance from everybody else on the planet. I recognized the hair and started praying.
“Faster, faster, faster,” is what I prayed.
But since there is no God, the lady ahead of me and the clerk had a leisurely conversation about her brand of cigarettes and how many different types there were and how confusing it all was like it was quantum mechanics, and I seriously considered dropping my bale o’Bounty and bolting for the door.
But it was too late.
“Hi, Bev.”
*sigh* “Hi, Judge.”
Now, as far as I’m concerned, once a judge, always a judge. If I knew you as a judge at one time, whether you’re still a judge or not, it’s super weird to me that I would ever call you by your first name.
But that’s just me. Feel free to call the judges of your acquaintance whatever the hell you want to call them.
Anyway, the second problem with unexpectedly running into somebody you know is the passage of time.
How long has it been since you’ve seen each other? How obviously is the expression on your face conveying the message, “Holy shit, you got old”?
And of course, they’re thinking the exact same thing about you, which is just peachy.
And what is up with people’s teeth? This isn’t England, we pretty much all have access to dental care.
I knew an attorney (who has since been disbarred, not surprisingly) who wore those fake teeth you see on late-night TV commercials. The poor man’s answer to veneers.
His smile was disturbing, like a dog with dentures. That isn’t the kind of thing you want to run into when you haven’t seen somebody for a while. Because your eyes are going to have a mind of their own and that’s the only place they’re going to look.
So if I ever run into you after not having seen you for some period of time, just know that I’m thinking, “Holy shit, you got old,” while staring at your teeth and silently swearing to never, ever leave my house for any reason ever again.
Silver lining to your story: the judge saw that you have great taste in TP. You know how judgmental judges are, so thank gods you weren't carrying an off-brand. By now its all over town that you only wipe your ass with primo paper.
I prefer the 3 piece perforated per sheet Brawny brand, when available, the brand with the LL Bean midwest look character that looks like he's looking for a tree to chop down, only because I'm so incredibly concerned about conserving dead trees while they last, or recycled wood chips, whatever.
Yeah, we need more stores that check out like those magical Amazon stores with no checkout, that is, no more chit chat at checkout, including waiting for some holdouts still crafting designer checks at the registers, and If that's not a stress agent, what is?!
So yeah, no to never hassle shopping is needed right up until the inevitable apocalypse.